Six years ago, I sat in a hospital bed with monitors and IV's attached to me, while we waited... There might have been TLC's 'Cake Boss' on repeat and I'm sure I had been texting your granny with the few updates we had to give. 

Six years ago, I didn't know that in a few hours, our doctor was going to be called in because your little body was being stressed with every contraction I had. And then shortly after that, I would be prepped for surgery. 

Six years ago, I was wheeled into a white sterile room and it felt like a dream. I remember feeling every contraction and fighting each one, knowing that every time my body tried to do what God had orchestrated it to do perfectly on its own, you were being hurt. I remember crying a lot - bouncing back and forth between fear of major surgery and knowing I would do anything for you, to make sure you are safe.

Six years ago, you were born. It's all very 'blurry', your birth. There are so many details I can't remember, because I was scared. But I remember being so VERY happy when I met you. When I saw those skinny little baby limbs and heard that cry. You were ours and you were healthy and you were perfect.

I had to wait to see you again, after they took to you be checked out. Your dad brought you down to where I was recovering and I remember my hands almost twitching I wanted to hold you so badly. I didn't get to touch you in the OR - I saw your little face, but I didn't get to touch you, to feel your skin and know you were not just a dream. It was almost too much to take, waiting for you to be in my arms.

Six years ago, I became a mom to a little boy with red hair, who didn't like to sleep unless he was swinging (at a speed which seemed almost violently fast) and had his soother in. Six years ago, I couldn't have fathomed how many times I'd want to pull my hair out at your stubbornness or probably lost years off of my life when you climbed farm equipment I thought you were too young to do. My boy, you have brought great joy to our lives. In a year that brought a scary diagnosis of an unknown disease, it also brought us you. 

Six years ago, I first began to love you. I haven't - WE haven't - stopped loving you. My sweet, sweet boy... I pray so many things for you, for who you will grow to be and who you will remain.   Mostly I pray that you will always know that we love you, that we would do anything for you. And that you will know a love deeper still, a perfect love that we try to model to you but fail so often at. Hudson, there's so much we hope for, for you... but nothing more than that you find your hope for all things securely in Jesus. Keep singing about the love of Jesus, my boy. Hold on to that love tightly.

Mama loves you better than the whole world. Happy birthday bud.